


Safe Haven

by Resoan



Series: Dragon Age Inquisition AU [12]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3484841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resoan/pseuds/Resoan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abelas awakens to find himself alone in the early stages of Fena'dea's pregnancy. Concerned, he searches for her, and eventually finds her - in a pillow fort. Fluff follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe Haven

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested on my tumblr, and based on the prompt 'Pillow Fort.'

It felt as though things were progressing nearly too fast; sometimes, Abelas would awaken and expect to find other sentinels in Mythal’s service milling about, though it took a singular glance at his side on such occasions to see how very wrong his assumption was. 

This was such a morning, though instead of finding a groggy, smiling Fena’dea cradled against his side, Abelas was alone in their bed. The corners of his lips twisted until he was frowning, and he cast a glance around their shared chamber on the off-chance she lingered and awaited his company wherever she might wish to go. 

His was a vain hope. Fena’dea was never one to be patient enough to wait, and the beginnings of her pregnancy had only exacerbated her feelings - especially when he tried to convince her to take things easier or slow down. She wasn’t self-destructive enough to do the opposite merely out of spite, though he was under no illusions she would remain cooped up inside when there were more fun activities to be done  _outside_.

A hand smoothed across his forehead as he battled the beginnings of a headache, though he was standing and dressing only a few moments later. Several people passed him by as he made his way down the corridor and towards the main hall and the exit to the courtyard, though none truly acknowledged him - not that Abelas cared one way or the other. Only a few mattered to him at Skyhold, and he had yet to come across one that day.

The air was crisp as Abelas stepped outside, light, lazy flakes of snow falling slowly from the skies. His gaze flitted from one end of Skyhold to the other, though not once did he find what he was searching for, and the sigh that followed his observation was deep and exhausted already. There was little denying the worry he felt - a worry that had only been mounting and augmenting as the days passed for rather apparent reasons; even reassuring himself that Fena’dea was undoubtedly well and likely with others did little to ease his anxiety.

He made his way to the tavern swiftly - one of the few places she cared to frequent - and was pleasantly surprised to see his assumption was correct; he was, however, just as equally annoyed to see that the vast majority of the tavern’s interior had been converted into nothing but pillows: ranging from the plush, velveteen ones emblazoned with the Inquisition’s lazy eye and stuffed with goose down to the flattest, greyest sacks Abelas had ever seen. Several blankets were hanging across windows and wherever a spare nail or rafter might accommodate, and the giggling from inside the monstrous construct was a telltale sign Fena’dea was within - and she was not alone.

"Uh, Needles, I think Smiley’s here to see you," Varric whispered not-so-quietly, and Abelas could scarcely contain the urge to roll his eyes when he heard her shush Varric loudly - as though he were not already aware of her location. 

"Hey, are you two going to join in on this round or what?" Bull was the one to draw their attention away from Abelas and to what the elf presumed was a card game.

"Sure. Give me just a second, Tiny," Abelas heard Varric reply, and he saw Fena’dea’s lips part to do the same just as she turned and caught his gaze. His lips pursed, eyes hardening, and she waved off Iron Bull’s offer with a few sheepish chuckles.

Abelas drew closer as Varric scurried further into the fort made of pillows: far enough away that Abelas could no longer even see him. “What are you doing in there?” His tone betrayed his displeasure, and Fena’dea did not reply - not that Abelas had truly expected her to do so.

"I can’t let you in without the password," Fena’dea informed him as he lingered at the fort’s entrance, the elf acting as a sort-of guard for it.

"I have no desire to partake of the festivities," was Abelas’s retort, though his hard expression softened when he saw Fena’dea’s expression falter into something sad for just a moment. "I wanted to make sure you were all right." 

"You worry too much," Fena’dea informed him, her eyes softening and touching almost as much as if she were to reach out a hand. "And I still can’t let you in without a password." Her grin returned then, and Abelas would have denied fervently any accusations that a shadow of a smile passed over his lips in response. 

"Oh? I think this will be password enough." There was a narrow window between several pillows, enough to see Fena’dea’s face, and that was room enough for Abelas to lean over and press a kiss to her lips. Her quiet gasp was adequate proof she had not expected such a display of affection, though she melted into the touch as it lingered - though he pulled away prematurely with a rather wicked, knowing glint in his golden eyes.

"Cheater," Fena’dea mumbled under her breath, though she grudgingly allowed him entry; such irritation was promptly swept away when Abelas had to bend and contort himself just in an effort not to bring down the fort on top of its occupants. Once he was more or less settled, Fena’dea pulled him down to sit beside her, his back finding a wooden beam to lean against as his arms reached reflexively for Fena’dea.

Fena’dea willingly let herself be dragged closer, his arms curling gently around her waist and his hands splaying across her still-flat belly. “I never thought I’d see you come into the pillow fort,” Fena’dea mused with a grin: a grin that softened as she leaned her back against his chest and her temple rested against his cheek. 

"That makes for two of us," Abelas replied, lips pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head before pulling her closer, Fena’dea eventually settling between his legs. "I…worried when I woke to find you gone," he informed her quietly, his nose nudging against her cheek gently. 

"This hasn’t changed anything," Fena’dea murmured reassuringly, one of her hands sliding over top of one of his where it currently rested on her abdomen. 

"But it has," Abelas insisted, the ancient elf shaking his head only once; there were night where poor dreams would shame him with dead or dying visions of those he failed to protect, of those he’d  _lost_ , or could little stand to lose. He’d wake in a cold sweat, and only Fena’dea’s continued good health and presence at his side saw him through such trying dreams. 

"I’m not going anywhere," Fena’dea told him, tone both soft and firm. "Not without you." This seemed to placate him for the time being, and the pair dissolved into a comfortable silence, Abelas content to hold Fena’dea in his arms. The ease with which she settled against him made him smile, warmed his heart more than he’d ever dreamed would have been possible, though when he heard a strange sound that seemed only to get louder as time wore on, he leaned a little closer to Fena’dea.

"What is that?"

Fena’dea’s lips pulled into a smirk. “Sera couldn’t figure out the password, so she’s sleeping on top of the fort in protest.”


End file.
